If I were an experienced writer of fiction I would know how to weave
all the various odds and ends of my story into the telling so as to
keep the action moving forward all the time, with all parts nicely
balanced. But as it is, I am afraid that I have been trying to tell it
all at once and am getting it rather one-sided. So far I have told only
what happened to us girls in the Glow-worm, and I fear that the reader
will have forgotten by this time that there were eight girls who
started out on the trip instead of four. So now I am going to carry you
back to a point almost at the beginning of the story; the point where
we almost struck the old woman and where the Striped Beetle vanished
from sight. As I said before, I am going to tell the story just as if I
had been along and seen everything, without stopping to quote Gladys or
Hinpoha or Medmangi or Chapa.
You will remember that we were proceeding westward through Toledo at
the time and the Striped Beetle was in the lead. Hinpoha sat in the
front seat with Gladys, holding Mr. Bob in her lap. The street was
crowded with vehicles and Gladys was driving carefully. A wagon loaded
almost to the sky with barrels threatened to fall over on them and they
had a narrow squeeze to get through between it and the curb. Some small
boys on the sidewalk shouted at the driver of the wagon and he shouted
back; a street car trying to make headway on a track from which a sand
wagon refused to move itself raised an ear-splitting racket with its
alarm bell; the noise was so deafening that the girls put their hands
over their ears and did not take them down again until Gladys had
turned a corner into a quieter street. They had turned another corner
before they discovered that the Glow-worm was not right behind them.
Gladys merely stopped the car and waited for us to come up.
"They're probably caught in that line of wagons and trucks on T----
Street," said Gladys, when we did not come immediately. "I hope their
engine didn't stall on that corner."
The minutes passed and we did not appear.
"Run down to the corner and see what is keeping them," said Gladys to
Chapa and Medmangi. The two girls got out and retraced their steps. But
nowhere did they see the Glow-worm. Puzzled, they returned to Gladys
and she promptly turned the Striped Beetle around and drove back
through the streets the way she had come. The Glow-worm had apparently
vanished off the face of the earth. Inquiry at frequent points brought
out the fact that the Glow-worm had knocked down an old woman (that is
the way such things are exaggerated) and had gone on again. Their
asking which way it had gone started an argument which ended in a fist
fight, for the two small boys they asked each maintained stoutly that
it had gone in a different direction. Then the mother of the boys ran
out from a grocery store to see what the racket was about and seizing
them by the back of their necks she shook them apart, boxing their
ears. When the cause of the argument was made known to her she settled
it in an emphatic manner by pointing with a fat forefinger down the
street.
"They went that way," she declared. "Four girls in tan suits and green
veils just like yours."
They took her word for it and started in pursuit of the Glow-worm,
expecting to come upon it at every turn, their wonder growing
momentarily. They could not understand why Nyoda had ceased to follow
them and was taking a route which was not marked in the route book.
They inquired at numerous places and found that we had passed just
ahead of them.
"I don't blame Nyoda for going this way," said Gladys, "it's lots
quieter than the other way; sort of back streets. She probably turned
off when the jam occurred on T---- Street and thought we saw her and
followed. It seems a little strange that she didn't wait for us to come
up, though."
Mr. Bob, our long-eared mascot, had a most angelic disposition, but
nevertheless, he knew when he was outraged, and when a yellow cur of no
special breed and no breeding at all snarled impudently at him from the
curb he jumped through Hinpoha's restraining arms with the intention of
chewing up the insolent one. The yellow dog saw him coming and, turning
tail, he fled yelping up a side street. Hinpoha shouted commands in
vain; Mr. Bob had set out to put his teeth into that yellow dog and he
would not be turned aside from his purpose. Gladys stopped the car and
Hinpoha ran after Mr. Bob. The yellow cur knew his neighborhood and
turned into an alley just as Mr. Bob nearly had him. Mr. Bob, with
Hinpoha hard after him, also turned into the alley. The back door of an
empty store offered the fugitive a safe refuge and he darted inside. So
did Mr. Bob, growling ferociously, and so did Hinpoha, panting for
breath and holding her hand to her side. From the back room of the
store the dogs passed to the front and Mr. Bob caught the yellow dog in
a tight corner behind a counter. For all he had run in such a cowardly
fashion the yellow dog was a good fighter and the battle which occurred
when the two clinched frightened Hinpoha out of her wits. She seized an
old broom which was standing against the wall and ran behind the
counter to beat them apart. In the darkness behind the counter she
almost fell over something on the floor, and the broom clattered out of
her hand. In her astonishment she forgot the fighting dogs. The thing
she had fallen over and which she had, at first, thought was a sack of
something, stirred and huddled up against the wall and Hinpoha heard
the sharp intaking of a breath. Then she made out the form of a girl; a
girl in a blue suit sitting on the floor with her hands over her face.
"Did--did the dogs frighten you?" asked Hinpoha. The girl dropped her
hands and looked up quickly. Just then the yellow dog broke away from
Mr. Bob and retreated through the back door. Mr. Bob, who had evidently
derived honorable satisfaction from the encounter, came over to Hinpoha
and subsided at her feet. With a look of wonder Hinpoha turned to the
girl crouching on the floor. She had moved into the light from a window
and Hinpoha could see that fear was written all over her face. It was a
girl about eighteen years old with a round cherubic countenance, framed
in fluffy light hair, wide open guileless blue eyes, with an expression
as innocent as a baby's. Just now the eyes were swimming in tears.
"You are in trouble?" asked Hinpoha, with ready sympathy.
The girl reached out her hand and took hold of Hinpoha's jacket as a
child holds on to its mother, in spite of the fact that she was
evidently older than Hinpoha. Hinpoha caught her hand and held it
tightly.
"Tell me about it," she said, gently.
The girl gulped down a big sob and wiped her eyes. "I'm--I'm hiding,"
she said, in a shaky voice.
"Hiding from what?" asked Hinpoha.
"From--from the man I work for," said the girl. "He said I stole
something and I didn't, and he says he can have me arrested," she said
with fresh sobs.
"But how can anyone have you arrested if you didn't steal anything?"
asked Hinpoha.
"I don't know," answered the girl, "but I'm afraid he will." She cried
for a moment and then collected herself and went on. "My name is Pearl
Baxter," she said. "I used to live on a farm down state with my mother
and then she died and I came here to the city and went to work in an
office. I was the only girl in the office and I knew the combination of
the safe. A few days ago Mr. Sawyer, that's one of the men I work for,
asked me to get certain papers out of the safe, and when I went there I
couldn't find them. He made an awful fuss and said I had taken them.
They were bonds, if you know what they are. He said he would have me
arrested. I believe his son took them because he knew they were there.
When the other partner of the firm found they were gone he insisted on
having the office searched and the bonds were found in my desk drawer.
They would not believe me when I said I did not put them there. That
was yesterday and I ran away and hid here all night and I'm afraid to
go out for fear they will get me."
She broke down again and wept into her handkerchief. Tender-hearted
Hinpoha was ready to weep in sympathy. "You poor thing!" she exclaimed.
"Have you no friends who would help you?" she asked.
The girl shook her head. "I don't know anybody up here," she said.
"I've only been working here three months."
For Hinpoha there was always one court of last resort. That was Nyoda.
"You come along with me," she said. "I know somebody who can tell you
what to do."
She led the girl out to the Striped Beetle and told her story to the
other girls. They all agreed that the only thing to do was to take her
to Nyoda as quickly as possible. She sat in the tonneau of the car
between Chapa and Medmangi with her veil tied down over her face,
through which she peered nervously to the right and left as the car
moved on through the streets. Gladys's brow was drawn up into a frown
of perplexity as corner after corner was turned and they still did not
come upon the Glow-worm. Boys playing in the street told them that it
had gone past over fifteen minutes before. Hinpoha anxiously wished for
a sight of the familiar car so that Pearl could be turned over to Nyoda
very soon.
"It's like a game of Hare and Hounds," said Chapa from the back seat
"Nyoda is the hare and we are the hounds. She's probably doing it on
purpose to see how well we can trail her to the city limits. You know
how fond she is of putting us to unexpected tests."
"I'll make it," said Gladys, determinedly.
Several times she consulted her route book and then she laughed. "The
joke is on Nyoda after all," she said. "This way leads to the southern
route and not the northern, and they'll have the pleasure of crossing
the city again. Won't we have the laugh on them, though, when we meet
them at the city limits?"
But the Glow-worm was not waiting for them at the city limits and they
were much surprised to learn that it had traveled on over the road to
the west. "The southern route?" asked Gladys, wonderingly, "I can't
imagine what Nyoda is doing. I'm sure she understood we were to take
the northern. It's all right, of course, because there is no great
difference in the routes, they each lead to Ft. Wayne, but I can't
imagine why she changed without telling us."
"Maybe she couldn't stop the car," said Hinpoha, beginning to giggle.
"It's happened before. The fellow next door to us bought a motorcycle
and got it started and couldn't stop it again and he whizzed up and
down the city until the gas gave out, and there were eleven policemen
chasing him before he got through."
The picture of the Glow-worm traveling across country with the bit
between its teeth, carrying its passengers willy-nilly over the wrong
road, was so funny that they all laughed aloud, in spite of the
improbability of it.
"Maybe she'll make us trail her all the way to Ft. Wayne," said Gladys,
musingly. "It's really our fault for losing her; we should have kept a
better lookout. But it's a cold day when the Striped Beetle can't catch
up with the Glow-worm." And Gladys put on full speed ahead.
Hinpoha was not worrying much about us and our disappearance; her
thoughts were taken up with Pearl and her night in the empty storeroom.
Hinpoha always takes other people's troubles so to heart.
At Napoleon they stopped for gasoline and learned that the Glow-worm
had passed some time before and had also stopped for gasoline.
For the most part Pearl sat silent, turning her head every little while
to watch the road behind them. She was that
pink-and-white-doll-baby-helpless-in-emergency type of girl who ought
never be allowed away from home without a guardian. After they had been
traveling awhile she leaned back against the seat and looked so white
and faint that the girls became alarmed.
"Do you feel ill?" asked Medmangi, feeling her pulse with a practised
hand. Medmangi is going to be a doctor and is in her element when she
has a patient to attend to. Pearl opened her big blue eyes languidly.
"I just got light-headed," she said, in a weak voice. "I think maybe
it's because I'm--I'm hungry."
"Why didn't we think of it before?" asked Hinpoha, filled with
self-reproach. "We might have known you hadn't had anything to eat
since yesterday if you stayed in that storeroom all night. We'll stop
in this village and get you something."
"I'd rather you wouldn't," said Pearl, in a somewhat embarrassed
manner. "I really don't want anything to eat."
"Not want anything to eat!" echoed Hinpoha. "Why don't you want to eat
if you're hungry?"
"You see," answered Pearl, still more embarrassed, "when I, when I ran
away, I didn't stop to take my purse and I haven't any money to pay--"
"That's nonsense," said Gladys, firmly. "You have got to let us help
you. It isn't any more than you would do for someone in the same
position."
They stopped and got her something to eat and the others drank pop to
keep her company. In spite of her being as hungry as she must have been
Pearl did not eat very much; her trouble had evidently taken away her
appetite. The girls exerted themselves to cheer her and assured her
that everything would come out all right as soon as they found Nyoda
and got her advice.
Somebody must have been moving a crockery store in the neighborhood and
dropped it in the middle of the road, for, as they were passing through
the outskirts of the little village where they had stopped they ran
into a regular field of broken china. Gladys stopped short when she saw
it, but it was too late, they were already in the midst of it. Both the
front tires breathed their last. I think it should be made a criminal
offense to leave things like that in the road. But then maybe the man
carrying the china was knocked down by an automobile in the first
place, and left the pieces in order to get revenge on some member of
the auto driving fraternity. Ever since then I have been wondering how
many of our calamities are brought down upon us by our best friends.
Gladys backed out of the mess and set about repairing the damage. The
Striped Beetle carried two extra tires done up in a nice shiny cover
all ready for emergency, but for some reason or other Gladys couldn't
get the old tires off. It seems the demountable rims refused to
demount, or whatever it is they are expected to do when you take a tire
off.
Don't expect me to get the details straight or I shall throw up the job
of reporter right here. I never could see through the workings of a
motor car. I am like the Indian who had the automobile explained to him
until he knew every part like a brother and then, when asked if he
understood it, he replied that he understood all but one thing and that
was what made it go without horses. So if the reader, who knows a car
from A to Z, will kindly forbear to smile when I muddle things up, I
will be her debtor forever.
Gladys saw that she would have to have help in getting those tires off
and began scanning the horizon for a man. There are times when a man is
a most useful member of society. There was not a man on the horizon at
that time, though, and the only promising thing was a house set far
back from the road in a grove of trees, and with a vegetable garden
running down to the road. They had already left the village behind and
habitations were scarce. Gladys went up to the house and returned in a
short while with a man, who wrestled with the tires awhile and then
proposed driving the car into the yard in the shade of the trees, as
the sun was scorching hot in the road. Gladys accepted the invitation
with alacrity.
While the Striped Beetle was holding up its poor cut front shoes for
the man to take off the girls strolled over to the pump for a drink. A
tired-looking woman, holding a fretful baby in her arms, came to the
door and asked the girls to come up on the porch and sit down until the
exchange of tires was made. Medmangi promptly offered to hold the baby
while the woman finished her work. With a sigh of relief the woman
handed her the baby.
"Such a time I've had with him to-day," she said, mopping her forehead.
"He's cried steady since morning. He acts sick and he's got a fever."
Medmangi took the fretful child and endeavored to soothe him while his
mother went about her work. Hinpoha, who is crazy about babies,
insisted on holding him half the time, but neither of them could make
him stop crying. A three year old girl, red-faced and heavy-eyed, as if
she had recently awakened from sleep, peered shyly through the screen
door and Chapa coaxed her to come out and sit in her lap. The mother
came to the door every few minutes to tell us how thankful she was for
the relief.
The relief promised to be one of considerable length, for the Striped
Beetle steadfastly refused to put on its new tires. At last, the man
proposed going after another man who lived down the road to help him.
Gladys joined us on the porch while he was gone and helped amuse the
babies. Still the little fellow cried. Medmangi explored for pins with
a skilled hand but there was nothing sticking into him. Neither did he
appear to be teething.
"There's something the matter with this baby," she said to the mother,
when next she came to the door. "Hadn't you better have a doctor?"
The woman came out on the porch and looked down at the child in a
worried way. "I sent my husband to town for the doctor this morning,"
she said, "but he had gone out into the country on a call and would not
be back until late to-night. The next nearest doctor is in B----;
that's eight miles away and we have no horse. So we'll have to wait
until Dr. Lane gets back from the country."
"Wouldn't you like to have me drive over and get the doctor from B----
as soon as the tires are on?" asked Gladys. Gladys is always the one to
offer the helping hand.
"Would you?" asked the woman, eagerly.
"I would be very glad to," said Gladys.
The man came back with his friend and between the two of them they
managed to get the Striped Beetle shod anew. Gladys drove off to B----,
leaving Chapa and Medmangi and Pearl and Hinpoha on the porch with the
babies and taking Mrs. Martin with her. She had seen Mrs. Martin give a
wistful glance toward the big car and surmised rightly that she had few
chances to go automobile riding. They were back in less than an hour
saying that the doctor would be right along, and he appeared presently
in a dusty roadster with another man beside him, probably a friend.
I suppose everybody has been taught from childhood that virtue is its
own reward and one good turn deserves another. But once in awhile they
discover that the reward of virtue is just as apt to be trouble as not,
and that one good turn can unscrew the lid of a whole canful of
calamities. Thus it was that Gladys's generous offer to fetch the
doctor from B---- ended up in disaster for all five of us. For the
doctor examined the fretful baby and the heavy-eyed little girl and
announced that they both had scarlet fever.
Scarlet fever! The girls looked at each other in dismay. Not one of
them had had it. And they had all handled both the babies; Medmangi had
hung over the little boy most of the time.
"If we have ourselves disinfected," said Medmangi, as they moved
hastily toward the car, "there won't be much danger of our getting it.
Scarlet fever isn't really contagious in the first stages."
"Stay right where you are," said the doctor, in a tone of authority.
"No one must leave this house. You are all under quarantine."
"But we can't stay here," said Gladys. "We're touring and only stopped
here."
"That makes no difference," said the doctor. He was a very young doctor
and had recently been appointed health officer in his district. There
was a serious epidemic of scarlet fever in that part of the state which
it was almost impossible to check because people would not keep to
themselves when they had it in the house. Young Dr. Caxton had made up
his mind that the next case that was reported would be as rigidly
quarantined as they were in the big cities. And automobile tourists
would be the very ones to spread the infection abroad through the
countryside. He was determined to hold them there at all costs.
They argued and pleaded in vain; he was obdurate. He had brought a
friend with him in the car and he proceeded to station him as guard
over the house to see that no one left it. Oh yes, he would see to it
that they got all necessary supplies; they would suffer no hardship,
but, on no account, would a member of that household set a foot off the
grounds. He ordered the babies put to bed and the curtains taken down
in that room and the rugs taken out. Mrs. Martin obeyed his orders in a
flutter of distress. She was frightened because her children had the
scarlet fever and worried half to death at the predicament her passing
guests were in. She had been so grateful to Gladys for taking her along
in the automobile to B----.
But her distress over it was nothing compared to theirs. To be held up
in the midst of a tour and quarantined with a scarlet fever case!
Whatever was to become of them? If Nyoda were only there!
"Now you'll have to telegraph your father," said Chapa.
Gladys's face was drawn with distress. "Mother would be frightened to
death if she knew about it," she said. "I don't believe I'll tell her
yet. I'll wait until I hear from Nyoda."
"How will we get word to Nyoda?" asked Hinpoha.
"Ft. Wayne," answered Gladys. "We were to stay there to-night and she
must be there by this time."
"You'll send a wire for us?" she asked the doctor beseechingly.
"Certainly," he answered, amiably. "Any service--"
But Gladys cut him short. He was plainly enjoying the situation. The
doctor departed with his horrid shiny little case and the message in
his pocket and left the guard to watch the house. The first thing he
did was to take something out of the Striped Beetle--I don't know
what--so Gladys couldn't start it and make a dash for liberty. Gladys
was ready to cry with rage at this high handed act, but that was all
the good it did her.
"Well, there's one thing about it," said Hinpoha, who was far more
philosophical than the rest, "if we have to stay prisoners here we
might as well get busy and help Mrs. Martin. It's no fun to have five
people quartered on you when there are two sick children in the house."
Medmangi was already in the sick room giving medicine and drinks of
water in an accomplished manner. It seems that the Winnebagos have a
specialist in every line.
The others went down to the kitchen and finished paring the peaches
which Mrs. Martin had been trying to can.
Later in the evening the guard slipped an envelope through the screen
door. It was a telegram. It was signed by the telegraph company and
read: "Yours date addressed Elizabeth Kent Potter Hotel Ft. Wayne
undelivered. Party not registered."